


Hiccup

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which there’s a problem with the cabin that serves as an U.N.C.L.E. safehouse…





	

Illya was used to the cold weather, and, indeed, relished the coating of white snow on the ground as he headed to the cabin where he was supposed to meet Napoleon, where they were to lie low until the overzealous THRUSH agents in the area called off the search for them (they were more than just a little irked that the duo had thoroughly destroyed a nearby satrap, and vengeance upon the two was something they were after). Napoleon had been complaining about the fact that they would be stuck in the snowed-over woods for an unspecified amount of time, and Illya had just listened to his rants, amused, as he approached the cabin.

But what surprised Illya was that Napoleon was pacing around outside the cabin as he approached.

“You did not have to wait out here in the cold for me,” Illya said, looking surprised and amused.

“Ah, sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t,” Napoleon said. “Well, I mean, I was waiting for you, of course, but, ah… I think we’ll need to find a different safehouse. This one has… issues.”

Illya arched an eyebrow, wondering why his partner was willing to suffer in the cold rather than seek the warmth of the cabin.

“Is something the matter, Napoleon?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. …Assuming you don’t mind sharing our cabin with a swarm of bees.”

“…What.”

“I hope you like honey on your breakfast toast,” Napoleon said, glibly, as he indicated the door.

Illya opened the door and peeked inside; at first, he didn’t see anything at all, but he eventually saw a large huddle of bees on the ceiling, spreading down the outside of the visible part of the chimney bricks. It was a fairly large group of bees, and the huddle was an impressive size indeed. Clearly, this safehouse had not been used in a long time.

“They are not swarming, Napoleon; they are huddling to keep warm due to the cold!” Illya chided him. “They shall not be making honey during the winter, either. And they won’t be bothering with us, lest we attempt to bother them.”

“And you’re not at all worried that a wayward wisp of smoke or the heat from the fire might cause them to stir in the middle of the night while we’re asleep?”

Illya looked back at him with a dark expression.

“I was not until you brought it up,” he muttered. Now the thought wouldn’t leave his head.

Napoleon gave him an apologetic look.

“…Well, now what?” the American asked.

The two of them turned as they heard gunshots in the distance; they turned back to each other, silently realizing that with THRUSH out there, their options were limited as to what they could do.

“How are we on blankets?” Illya asked

“Pretty good; enough to make a nice wall against any winter wind.”

“…Then let’s dispense with the fire and make do with the blankets.”

“Good idea. And, of course, we’ll _bee-ware_.”

Illya groaned at the pun. It was going to be a long night…


End file.
